


Balancing Act

by kuchi



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Awkwardness, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Office Party, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuchi/pseuds/kuchi
Summary: “You… want to pretend to be my boyfriend…?” Kyle watches himself from across the room, trying to parse through what Stan is suggesting. It sounds, at first glance, like a cosmic joke.Stan offers up a plan of action to help Kyle deter an annoying ex, and Kyle, despite his misgivings, agrees to it. Neither of them manage to foresee the complications it might bring to their friendship.





	Balancing Act

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story that I've written with an actual plot (sort of), mostly to productively harness my undying love for the fake dating trope. Hope you like it!!! 
> 
> Also I should mention this is heavily inspired by something I just read in another fandom, [Blessings In Disguise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13386450) by guileheroine!!

Kyle slams the front door shut behind him, much louder than necessary, barging into his apartment. He glares down at his phone. _Bastard._

“What’s up?” Stan’s voice carries from the kitchen, muffled by whatever he’s eating. 

Kyle marches in and slumps down on one of the weirdly low bar stools, almost missing his purchase on it in his irritation.

“It’s Adam. I told him so many times. I don't know how to get it into his head that I _don't want_ \- why are you eating my pizza?”

Stan ignores this last comment pointedly, sticking another piece into his mouth. “Why? What’s he done?”

Kyle tries to recall what he’s told Stan about his ex-boyfriend. They met in college, dated for a year or so, and broke up - that should have been all. Except now they’re both interning at the same firm, (the petty part of him thinks that Adam _followed_ him there) and now Kyle is subject to weekly text messages begging for his attention. As opposed to the monthly ones before. They’re mostly benign, awkward small talk here and there that is harmless enough that Kyle’s idealism (or something) pushes him to reply. But by now, another side of it - a pestering, sometimes aggressive _pursuit -_ has reared its ugly head enough times.

“Just trying to ask me to get back together again.” Kyle rolls his eyes.

Stan frowns. “Dude, it’s been _months_. I don’t even know why you were so nice to him at the beginning.”

“Me neither,” Kyle says, resigned. Stan had told him, unexpectedly, to shut him down strongly from the start, and Kenny had (rather unproductively) suggested that Adam probably just needed “one last pity fuck” and that would be it.

Neither of those options appealed to Kyle at that point. And he kind of _does_ know why he wasn’t too harsh on Adam when all this started. He wouldn’t be able to explain to Stan, or even sometimes to himself, what led him to keep letting Adam down gently like that. There was something irresistible in the pull of someone _wanting_ him in that way - even someone he already knew he didn’t mesh with - after living his whole life in a tiny fucked up town being, like, the only gay person.

He wasn’t (maybe still isn’t) experienced enough to resist the novelty of it, what feels like the sheer confirmation of his -  his romantic worth, to put it bluntly, after so many years of doubting it, even as he knows logically what a dumb notion that is. Maybe that’s why he managed to stay with someone so annoying for so long in the first place.

He looks at Stan, munching on a bite of pizza, a mildly distasteful expression on his face.  There is no way he could make Stan understand something like that. Stan who’s been falling over girls since Kyle can remember. Usually mutually, he’ll give him that, at least. He’s known for a long time that Stan can see himself easily in that sense, in the context of a relationship, sex and romance and all, with no second-guessing (sometimes too little if you ask Kyle). It’s the opposite of Kyle’s own experience.

He doesn’t _want_ to explain it to Stan, anyway, and reveal that kind of weakness. It’s not that Stan doesn’t know his vulnerabilities, far from it, God knows he would love to properly rant and get some kind of reassurance about his stupid feelings. But he can’t talk about _this_ to Stan. Because talking about a failed relationship is only a step away from talking about his romantic uncertainties, and then from _there_ that senseless longing - it’s only a step away from the one thing Stan can never, ever know.

So he doesn’t trust himself to go anywhere near the subject. He wouldn’t dare to let Stan know how much of that uncertainty came from their relationship. From being so torturously _close_ to an ideal love for so many years growing up. How could anything else compare to that?

Close but impossible. That was the catch. 

Well. He’s past all that now. The longing and resentment and the endless cycling of those two things. He has to be. He’s had enough years in the real world to have learnt better, and more to the point, enough experience of newer and more mediocre friendships to know to keep, and not fuck up, a friendship like this one.

“I don’t wanna run into him at that fucking party,” he says miserably. “During the day is one thing, I can sort of time my schedule to avoid him…”

Stan tilts his head in sympathy. “Tell him to piss off.” 

Kyle laughs, a humourless sound. “You think I haven’t by now? Anyway, I have to be polite now - we work in the same office. Who knows what crap he might pull if he thinks-” 

Kyle’s phone jumps on the counter with a tiny _ding!_ He picks it up and glances at it for barely a second before scoffing and dropping it into Stan’s curious hand.

He watches Stan’s brows furrow, then rise, and then a vehemently suspicious expression flashes across his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” 

The first message from today, 4.15PM, reads: _Hoping to see you on friday night_

And below it, only seconds fresh: _Look, stop acting like you don’t want us to get to know each other again… admit it, we were so good. I know you must miss me like I miss you._

Pretty quick escalation there.

Stan hands the phone back, eyes set in a curiously determined way. “Friday is the office party, right?”

Kyle nods. The annual cocktail party, for all the small law firms that sit in that building including Kyle’s; ideal, of course, for the shiny new summer interns to sell themselves around a little bit. He’s obviously going to go, no matter what, assert his fucking right to be there without hindrance, but his skin smarts at the thought that Adam would take either his presence _or_ his absence as some kind of win.

“You should take me,” Stan says.

“What?” It takes Kyle a moment to connect the last two things Stan says, and then try to make sense of it in context of the situation at hand.

“He’ll leave you alone if he thinks you have a boyfriend,” Stan says with confidence.

Oh. _Oh._

The words come slowly. “You… want to pretend to be my boyfriend…” Kyle watches himself from across the room, trying to parse through what Stan is suggesting. It sounds, at first glance, like a cosmic joke.

It sounds _ridiculous_ , but - feasible? 

He swears that he can see Stan blushing a little. “I mean, it shouldn’t be too hard to pull off, because-"

“You think that will actually _work_?”

“Guys like that don’t care if you say you’re not interested. They think the only excuse for not talking to them is if you’re with someone else.”

Kyle takes a slice of pizza, narrowing his eyes in what he hopes is a casual manner. His brain is still stuck on _boyfriend_ and his heart is beating hard. He takes a bite. “And how do you know so much about how _guys like that_ think?”

Stan shrugs. “Dudes are the same everywhere. Apparently. This is exactly the kind of stuff girls complain about too.” He ducks his head disbelievingly before looking back up at him again, “You have no idea how much any girl will tell you about the creepy shit that dudes do. It’s like they’re trying to discreetly warn every guy around them about what’s appropriate behaviour.” He laughs lightly, “Kinda sad, really.”

“Okay,” Kyle says warily, “But do _you_ really want to do that?”

“I want to piss him off,” Stan says plainly.

Kyle laughs then, feeling his mood strangely lifted, simply from the pure sympathy emanating from his best friend across the counter. He’s grateful for it. He knows Stan means _I want to help you_ , too, but it doesn’t bear saying. For the first time, he feels the tension release, not realising just how stressed he’d been about the Adam situation lately. His annoyance mirrored in Stan is like a fresh opportunity to assess the situation, to decide to do something really proactive about it.

The sheer chance that it might actually work and rid him of Adam’s relentless presence, and the _fun_ that they might have doing it (it’s kind of like going undercover, in a sense, like the games they used to make up as little kids) is alluring enough to make Kyle agree.

He smiles his agreement to Stan, who’s clearly thinking the same thing.

Stan stands up, raising his brows in challenge. “So, are your super secret spy skills as shitty as I remember from twelve years ago?”

“You’re senile, dude. _I_ was always the one bringing those missions home.” 

Kyle busies himself with what’s left of his pizza as Stan laughs it off and leaves the room. He checks the date on his phone. Wednesday. All right. Two days to get their story straight. Two days to calibrate himself and tamp down the ironic thrill already building in his chest. He isn’t sure yet if it’s more sad or exciting, and maybe against his better judgement, he wants to find out. 

Two days to steel his old feelings, keep them down where they belong.

*** 

Kyle sucks his teeth, trying and failing to do up the last button on his pristine teal shirt as he walks out of his bedroom. “So how’s this gonna work?” He manages it, finally, and straightens out the creases along the shoulders. “He already knows about you.”

Stan looks up from his position on the couch. He’s been pondering their plan while Kyle gets ready. He thinks about it for a second. “We can just say that… somewhere in the last year, we got together?”

“Okay. So anything he knew about you from before still stands,” Kyle says, brows furrowed like he’s looking for any potential holes in the idea.

“Yeah. Anyway, if I’m playing your boyfriend it makes sense to just keep our history as it is. Makes it easier to remember.” 

“Right,” Kyle says, looking at the floor. 

Stan baulks a little. It doesn’t look like Kyle has too much faith in this strategy, though he doesn’t know why that would be. He feels hesitant, too, but it’s for a different reason - it’s like he has jitters, almost. Makes sense. He’s not the greatest actor.

But if Kyle is more unsure than he is, maybe it’s not a good plan after all. When he first came up with the idea, it was obvious, an instant fix. Kyle needed his help, and who better to play such a delicate role than himself, someone who already best knew the details of Kyle’s life?

The truth is - the reality is kind of different, now that the event is looming. _Boyfriend_. He tastes the word silently on his tongue, making sure Kyle isn’t looking. He’s _never_ had a problem with Kyle’s sexuality - has never been the kind of person who would, apart from the initial hand-wringing that lasted a couple of days after Kyle told him. But there was no room for that, not when he soon realised his best friend was the same as he’d always been. And he couldn’t care less if a bunch of strangers think he’s gay. He’s always been way more sensible about this kind of stuff than his peers (and definitely most adults), and if he didn’t feel affronted enough for that no-homo bullshit as a teenager, there’s no way he’s going to start now.

So what’s the issue? Why does he feel embarrassed all of a sudden? The more he susses out the plan in his head, as he’s been trying to do today and yesterday, the more he realises that there are _so few_ details to change _._ They need a vague date for when ‘Stan’ starts dating Kyle, that’s about it.

What does that say about them? 

He loves Kyle, obviously. Even if it’s not like _that_. He knows Kyle. Could probably answer any question about him from a million with ease, even the tedious few years they were apart from college he can fill in with countless stories Kyle has told him. What more is there?

Therein lies his problem. Playing a character so close to himself might get the details muddled. He tries to imagine being grilled on it, hypothetically. Not that that’s going to happen, but it’s good to practice the extremes, right? _What does he love about Kyle?_ Is the answer what he, Stan, really loves? Is it what he thinks a hypothetical Stan-shaped boyfriend would say he loved? Is there a difference between those things? _Should_ there be a difference?

It makes his head hurt a little, pulls some uncertainty into what he previously thought was a seamless plan. But no matter. He thinks about Kyle’s exhausted demeanour that day, on the many days before that. This guy hasn’t just been wearing his patience, it’s clearly something bugging Kyle on a deeper level, something even the usually caustic parts of his personality aren’t immune to. He makes Kyle act unlike himself, and that’s what makes Stan’s anger at him rise more than anything else.

There’s probably loads of guys that Kyle could be with, so he doesn’t understand why one failed relationship is still dragging him back, or what seems to be making him hesitant to date more. But then again, it’s some kind of weird relief for Stan, so he won’t question it too much. He’s only witnessed Kyle in a relationship very briefly, and he doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like having to think about someone - a _guy_ , specifically - giving Kyle something better than he can, as little sense as that makes. Doesn’t want to think of whatever they do with their time together. What inside jokes they might have and how they compare to his and Kyle’s.

Whatever.

Party starts in under two hours. He’s going to put on a flawless performance, and make sure Adam well and truly gets the message, for Kyle’s sake.

“Okay, so when did you and ‘Stan’ get together?” he grills, feigning seriousness and poking Kyle with a sock-covered toe. The air quotes help him arrange his mental diagram of personalities, and more importantly, they make Kyle bark a laugh through his uneasy expression.

“Uh, five months ago? Longer?”

“How about like a week after you and Adam broke up?” He can’t get that out without laughing.

“Dude!” Kyle says, “too harsh.” But he doesn’t stop giggling.

“Um, okay, what if I asked you out, let’s say, around last November?” Stan suggests, feeling crazy.

“Why is it you? Why don’t _I_ ask _you_ out?” Kyle says, and then he presses his lips together and _literally_ takes a step back, like the words burnt his mouth somehow.

“You’re gonna have to sound a little more enthusiastic if you want to be the one doing that,” Stan grins. 

Kyle eases a little. “Fine. But I'm going to suggest you only did _that_ because you were totally pining after me, since I am much cooler and smarter and generally better than you.”

Stan pretends to stifle his disbelief with a hand against his mouth. “Done.”

This might actually be hilarious.

“Ready?” he nods at Kyle. 

Kyle motions for the door, grabbing his car keys and wallet from the counter and sliding them into his pocket.

“Let me drive,” Stan says once they’re downstairs. The moment he’d stepped out the door, he felt - _heightened_. A weird awareness of the character he’s going to be playing - already is playing, sort of -  and the same worry from before.

Kyle raises an eyebrow.

“Look, you have a very _thoughtful_ boyfriend,” Stan says pointedly.

Kyle rolls his eyes with a smile and shoves the keys in his hand before getting in on the passenger side. Stan chooses to believe he’s red from the afternoon heat, from the unbearable temperature inside this damn car.

“Don’t mess this up,” Kyle says, trying for a light tone, but it’s off -  and Stan knows he’s talking to more to himself. Who knows. Now that they’ve come close enough to the execution to not turn back, the thought crosses his mind that they might both just be terrible actors.

Kyle is quiet for pretty much the whole drive, and only just clears his throat as Stan pulls into the parking lot behind the grey-and-beige building. He looks like he might be regretting coming.

Stan cuts the engine. He squeezes Kyle’s arm. “Fuck him. Seriously.” 

Kyle just looks hard at him, appreciative but silent.

“And you’ll do _fine_ , dude. Just pretend it’s your dream guy next to you.”

Kyle bites down on a bland smile before getting out of the car.

***

When Kyle steps out of the elevator to the roof, his first thought is that it’s _way_ fancier than any other part of the building he’s seen would indicate. The space he works in is relatively small, and though they get plenty of sunlight, there’s not much colour in anything except the unusually bright orange coffee mugs that his boss, Divya, likes to keep littered around. This roof is beautiful - sleek, blue-grey panelling along one edge, and above it a curved, wooden canopy under which three long tables hold an assortment of drinks and food. Otherwise, the space is totally open, quite a few tables lined around the edges, but the roof is large enough that they appear spaced out.

The sun is about to set. All in all, it’s a gorgeous setting, and even the hundred or so semi-formally dressed people milling around can’t take away the feeling that there’s something soothing in the air. Kyle loves roofs, weird as that sounds. He loves being in the city.

Stan seems to notice it too, he leans over the closest edge of the parapet and takes a deep breath. His hands slung casually in his pockets, the dark-red of his thin sweater appearing darker as it blocks the sunlight that’s now creeping low. Wouldn’t it be perfect to just stand right here with him, make idle chat about nothing at all? Kyle forces himself to remember why Stan’s here in the first place.

“Kyle!” Right on cue, a voice snaps him out of his thoughts. It’s Divya. She floats towards him, with a twinkling smile, wearing at least three more necklaces, that Kyle can tell, than her usual work attire allows her to. He eases immediately.

She’s like someone drew up the exact opposite of what you would think a lawyer would look like. Kyle finds it equal parts amusing and endearing, has done so since his first day when she gave him a lively tour of their space while simultaneously talking her granddaughter through pre-school play jitters on the phone.

“I’m so glad to see you.” She clasps him warmly on the shoulder, well above her head. “Who’s this?”

“Hi, Divya,” he smiles. He motions beside him. “Uh, this is - Stan, my boyfriend.” He puts a hand on Stan’s lower back.

Stan smiles in acknowledgement, looking a thousand shades shier than he did mere moments ago. But his actions are smooth, and he lets Kyle’s hand on the small of his back guide him forward like it’s nothing new at all, something he might have experienced a thousand times.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, shaking her hand.

“Stan, this is my boss, Divya.”

She beams at them, looking from Kyle to Stan and back again. “You never told me you had a boyfriend!” She winks at Stan, “Nice catch, this one.”

Kyle hears Stan’s laughter distantly under the sound of his own heartbeat. It’s good-natured, if a little nervous. He’s better at this than Kyle thought.

Or, he’s clearly trying very hard off the bat to make sure he can pull this off for Kyle. The thought fills him with a rush of affection, and basking in it, he pulls Stan into him, arm curling around his waist, squeezing without thought.

Stan tenses the slightest amount, and Kyle’s stomach is instantly cold.

“Well, I’ll leave you to wander around! Come and find me later, Kyle. There’s something I’d like your thoughts on.” Divya leaves with a wave, and Kyle is grateful to see her go, for once. He turns immediately to Stan, scanning his face for any sign of discomfort. He’s frozen in place, doesn’t know if it would be more or less conspicuous to snatch his hand away now.

“Are you okay?” Stan’s searching his face in return.

“I - yeah. Sorry about -” He looks down between them, taking his hand away gently.

“About what? I think that went pretty well.” Stan grins nervously. “You’re smoother than I expected, dude.”

Alright. Kyle needs to get a hold of himself. He smiles, “Maybe stop with the ‘dude’.”

Stan looks bashful. “Right. Of course.” He eyes the hand Kyle just snatched away, “That was a good touch - I didn’t even think about, you know, PDA and that kind of stuff. Your boss is tiny, by the way.”

Kyle laughs, feeling so much lighter. Something gleeful in Stan’s tone is egging him on. This _is_ kind of thrilling, a secret just between them. Yeah. They’re secret agents.

“Right? She's super nice actually. I didn’t expect it.”

They run into a couple more people that Kyle knows. Ethan, the associate in his office that Kyle works most frequently under. Sara, another intern from the firm upstairs, who he often catches during lunch breaks. A good few people whose names he doesn't really know yet, so a polite nod rather than conversation suffices.

Stan takes the whole thing in stride. By now it's innocuous the way he leans into Kyle, looks sweetly at him for introductions. Kyle guides him with a hand every time, to be more convincing, as Stan said.

They might actually pull this off.

 A little while later, he finds himself in the middle of a group discussion. Stan wandered off earlier towards the catering. He's talking to Ethan about a case they're researching together when he catches Adam out of the corner of his eye.

***

Stan scans his eyes around the roof, finishing off his second cake-pastry-type thing. They’re delicious, whatever they are. He tries to discreetly lick off a tiny blob of frosting from his thumb. This place is impressive. It actually looks nicer in the near-darkness, the glow of each spindly portable lamp, evenly spaced like streetlights, making every little crowd of conversation seem secretive and magical somehow. There are way more young people than he would have assumed. It is still mostly older people, but even Kyle’s boss does _not_ look like a grandmother, no matter what he might have told Stan.

It hasn’t been that hard to do this boyfriend act so far. It’s natural, almost, because all he really has to do is stay by Kyle’s side and look happy to be there - not something that’s ever been untrue. The weirdest part is how _unequipped_ he feels. It’s the gap between who Kyle’s friends and colleagues think he is and who he really is - an obvious fact, but still more glaringly obvious to him in the midst of a conversation. There are people here for whom the only fleeting version of Stan they will ever know is _Kyle’s boyfriend_ , and that’s kind of crazy.

Whenever Kyle is talking to him, whenever he says Stan’s name in front of another person, it’s not _Stan_ his best friend. It’s an imposter, a version of him that’s not really him, ‘Stan’, the boyfriend.

There’s a whole different life hidden inside his own name every time that Kyle, or someone else here, utters it. It makes him feel unsteady.

Wistful?

He wonders what’s in that universe. What thoughts and memories and actions and feelings make up that Stan’s life. Their life together.

How empty is this little plan, in comparison?

He looks around for Kyle. Finds him in a little group that’s sitting and standing around a table, and they all look deep in conversation about something. Stan recognises some people that he met earlier - the guy sitting in a chair next to where Kyle’s leaning against the parapet, explaining something up at him. Kyle is listening intently, and standing beside him is the beautiful girl from earlier - Sara? - and they’re both nodding in agreement to something the guy is saying. Kyle extracts himself from the conversation suddenly as Sara moves closer, looking right across the roof. Stan follows his eyes to the offending image. Adam. The change in him is palpable: Kyle’s whole body becomes stiff and he looks around.

It feels like a rude interruption. He was lulled into some kind of ease, watching Kyle in his element, this one element of his that’s sort of beyond Stan's reach. And so this guy has _already_ managed to irritate him today, before Stan even has the chance to see his face. He walks over to Kyle immediately.

“Where is he?”

Kyle nods tightly towards the far end of the roof, before marching towards it, silently motioning for Stan to follow. Stan squeezes his hand briefly, but regrets it immediately: Kyle seems to tense even more, back ramrod straight.

He’s talking to Divya and a thin-looking old guy in a full suit, but he excuses himself from the conversation when he sees Kyle nearby, and saunters over to them. Stan’s only ever seen a picture once or twice. He’s a little more conventionally attractive than the greasy image in Stan’s head, and that makes him bristle.

“Kyle! Hey.” He swaggers over, expectantly, briefly touching Kyle’s arm. Stan digs his toes into his shoes.

“Adam,” Kyle acknowledges his presence. No smile.

“You came.” The gladness in his face and in his smooth voice is innocent, could even be called childlike, and the contrast between that and his usual, cocksure demeanour almost makes Stan more angry. He can kind of see why someone would give him the time of day in person, even if they wouldn’t over the phone, and he hates that that person has been Kyle.

“Who’s this?” he asks, flippantly, like he’s trying to show Kyle how much it’s costing him to take his attention off him for even a second.

Stan doesn’t wait for Kyle’s reaction. He offers his hand, as politely as he can muster. “I’m Stan. Kyle’s boyfriend.”

Adam can’t pick up his face fast enough. It’s fucking hilarious.

He looks like he’s trying hard to lower his surprised brows and neutralise his stupid face, but it isn’t working, and he shakes Stan’s hand weakly.

His eyes narrow then, he’s clearly racking his brain for Stan’s name. Stan resists the urge to fist his hands at that expression, and instead puts an arm around Kyle’s back.

Adam turns back to Kyle, his expression carefully constructed. “Oh! Your _friend_ from - I didn’t know you were -”

“Yeah, we are,” Kyle says, and his icy tone says the rest: _so leave me the fuck alone._

“How long have you been dating?” Adam blabbers quickly, and it’s a little bit pathetic.

“About sev- nine months now.”

Adam narrows his eyes again. Stan would kind of love to punch him in the face. He looks between the two of them suspiciously, as if Kyle would lie about it just to spite him or something. Well, that _is_ almost exactly what they’re doing, but that’s beside the point.

“Right,” he says, eyes glinting with something.

Stan can sense Kyle’s anger hovering tangible beside him, see the rigid set of his jaw.

He runs that hand along Kyle’s back, across and back again, deliberately, fingers trailing slowly. Hoping against hope that it looks casual: easy enough for Adam to know what they have (and what he _doesn’t_ have, Stan thinks pettily) without drawing too much attention. But that’s not even really his priority. It’s an afterthought. He wants to reassure Kyle right now more than anything, and calm him down: show him that they can recover from his minor fumble. He wants to somehow channel through that one touch that it doesn’t even matter; _prove_ to him how little influence Adam’s presence has to have for him.

Adam straightens himself. “I have to go see someone,” he says. And flees.

Kyle drags Stan by his wrist into a quiet corner the moment he’s gone. He releases a loud sigh, and all the tension with it.

“Did you see his fucking face?” Stan whispers, and immediately they’re both cackling.

Stan throws an arm around him triumphantly, giddy from Kyle’s release. It’s only the space of a second until he freezes - with his arm cupped affectionately around Kyle’s neck. This is the _prize_ , outside and beyond the performance they’re putting on. It’s the whole reason for this charade. The mistake is evident: he shouldn’t be celebrating it as Kyle’s boyfriend.

Kyle doesn’t seem to notice.

“What a dick,” Stan adds unnecessarily.

“Not sure if he believes it though,” Kyle says, when they’ve recovered from the hilarity of the situation. He looks almost forlornly at the ground.

So what? They’ll just have to pile it on a little more for the rest of the night. “He’ll have to,” Stan says. “We’ll _make_ him.” He knows where Kyle’s worry is coming from, and even if he doesn’t completely agree with his assessment, it really is more fun than it should be to piss this dude off. He gives Kyle’s hand another squeeze, pointedly, demonstrating exactly _how_ they’re gonna make him believe it.

He’s glad it’s too dark to tell the shade of his face, and maybe Kyle’s too.

Kyle smiles. “I’m gonna go get food,” he says, and clasps a clammy hand briefly around his wrist before leaving.

***

The table of hors d'oeuvres and drinks is much emptier now. Kyle thinks about wandering over to one of the waiters carrying wine and cocktails for another drink but he decides against it. Probably not the best idea tonight. Not that he hasn’t had years of practice keeping his mouth shut or whatever, but he can’t pretend this is a regular night. It feels safer not to. 

He has to admit it: this is harder than he thought it would be. More sad than exciting, is the sorry conclusion. But part of him already knew that from the beginning.

In the small moments that he forgets about the pretence it’s the easiest thing in the world to parade around acting like Stan _is_ his boyfriend, and that’s what makes it hard. The double bluff he’s balancing - of making sure Stan thinks it’s equally a performance on both their parts, on top of what they’re already doing for everyone else. The night is weirdly beautiful, too, for a fucking office party, and everyone here is so nice and interesting. He feels foolish, starring in a cruel production of an ideal version of his life.

He picks up a couple of tiny sandwiches, attempts to discern what’s inside them for a second before giving up and shoving them in his mouth. He doesn’t want to be mad at Stan, but it’s so confusing. He feels guilty for feeling something treacherous in the flawless act that his best friend is putting on. There’s nothing here. He can’t resent Stan for doing exactly what they agreed, and exactly what’s making the plan work, so he’s trying hard not to.

The small blessing amidst all of this - and he should feel happy, they’ve (almost) definitely succeeded in this regard - is finally getting Adam off his back. He feels so fucking relieved (and a little bit smug) and sharing that with Stan should be as thrilling as anything but -

The act is too much for his irrational heart, and every time Stan diligently produces something new for a scene: a gentle look, a clasp of his hand, a comforting arm on his back, he feels something sick and aching rear its head deep in his stomach. Something he hasn’t felt in a really long time, since before college, when they used to have exactly the lack of boundaries that led Kyle to feeling so torn up in the first place.

Everything, again, is a bitter reminder.

“Kyle, over here.”

He looks up. It’s Ethan, waving him over. “There’s someone I want to introduce you to.”

He blinks and drags his feet across, grabbing a few items he hasn’t tried from the trays in front of him in the process. Tries hard to focus on this party, and these people. Not Adam. And definitely not Stan.

*** 

Stan finds Kyle at the same table again, though there’s fewer people around it this time. Most of them seem to have left to get more drinks, gathering around in a cluster by the tables of food. The girl from earlier, Sara, catches his eye with a tiny smile as she’s getting up to leave, and Stan feels his ears burn as he returns it automatically. He takes over someone’s seat at their hurried request, flopping down next to Kyle and draping an arm over the back of his chair.

“Hi,” he says.

Kyle turns to him, eyes bright. “Hey.” He has one of those cakes on a flimsy blue napkin in front of him.

Stan nods towards it, “Those things are amazing.”

He watches Kyle break the little cake in half, blow off the crumbs, and hand one piece to him. Stan takes it eagerly.

Kyle watches him eat it with an amused, kind of distant expression. “Who’s thoughtful now,” he deadpans, but he doesn’t wait for Stan’s reaction before looking out ahead of him again.

“Not gonna drink?” Stan asks.

“Nah. Already had enough.”

“You need a clear head for all of this, right? Me too,” Stan says with a smiles. Kyle doesn’t seem to be paying attention, though.

“Are you thinking about Adam?”

“No, actually I’m not.”

“Good,” Stan scoffs.

Kyle looks back up at him suddenly, eyes full of a question. Stan waits for elaboration, but he doesn’t really understand - he’s hardly said anything controversial. He feels bad, suddenly, and he doesn’t know why. Kyle still seems kind of aloof, which he didn’t expect after the way he was laughing with Stan right after the Adam meeting. He wants to do something to help, but he doesn’t even know if he’s imagining Kyle’s strange mood or not.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing, d-” Kyle shakes his head with a perfunctory smile. “It’s nothing.”

He tries a different angle. “Come on,” he teases. “I’m your boyfriend. You’re not gonna tell me what’s bothering you?”

“You’re not my boyfriend. No one else is here.”

Something stings in that, but Stan knows when to back off. Something else is clearly bothering him, enough that he’s not in the mood to keep up their charade right now. Maybe he still is upset about Adam, or maybe it’s another thing entirely. “Okay,” Stan says, “if you want to talk, I’m here. Obviously.”

He hates feeling useless. It’s not like he came to this function to do anything else.

He can’t help himself. “Why do you care so much about what he thinks, anyway? He believed it enough to leave you alone, clearly.”

Kyle is looking down at his hands. He’s picking at his nails, slowly, and he waits a long time before replying. Stan has to think back when he speaks to remember that he didn’t really ask Kyle a question.

“It’s just that - I guess I don’t like that I had to lie to him about this, you know?” He pauses, like he’s thinking about his wording carefully. Stan doesn’t want cherry-picked words. “I think he - well he said, a long time ago, that he loved me - and if that’s true, which I don’t even really know that it was -” he pauses again, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head in an irritable way.

“We still had a real fucking relationship, so even if he doesn’t know it -”

“- it still feels like he has the upper hand?”

Kyle nods, grimacing, like he’s more annoyed at himself than anything else.

“Well,” Stan says. And even as he knows that this is isn’t what Kyle means at all, and he should just be lending a sympathetic ear right now, it’s the only thing stuck in his mind. He can’t think, can’t find anything else to say over the urgency of it: “It’s not a lie that I love you.”

***

Stan is perfect, stupid, beautiful, and the fucking worst. Kyle sits up, blinking away his aggravation fast, because people are returning to the table. He offers Stan a weak smile of reassurance, for bearing witness to his pointless moment of misery and being nice about it. Even when the thought of Stan is pissing him off, his actual presence still has some sort of ameliorating effect. Kyle doesn’t know how much more foolish that makes him.

Ethan comes to sit opposite him, and two more people from the office, Neil and Natasha, sit down in a line following Ethan. Stan makes small talk with them while Kyle and Ethan attempt to carry on with their conversation from before. He finds he can’t concentrate on it anymore though (and not only because Ethan is faltering on his points a little from the alcohol) because his ears are tuned between Stan and his colleagues next to him. They’re doing the usual introductory stuff - _how’s the night going,  the weather is nice, what do you do_ _for a living_ \- and Stan answers and asks questions easily. Again, it’s easy to forget what he’s here for.

Soon enough, though, the conversation turns inevitably to who Stan is to Kyle. Kyle, again, feels the apprehension creep in. Why can’t he just fucking relax? Maybe he’s just not cut out for this. He tries his damnedest to feel _normal_ , and though he’s sure he’s not showing any outward signs, Stan still seems to notice. This time when Stan purposefully wraps a hand over his wrist under the table, he tries to take it for what it is - a tangible connection, linking them together and keeping them on the same page for the impending sham conversation.

Neil is smiling under his hand and Natasha gasps loudly in wonder when Stan tells them how long they’ve known each other. The actions are over-expressed, and Kyle realises they’re a little tipsy too. He’s the only one missing out, just to keep his act straight; he thinks about how ironically it’s more likely the act for Stan rather than the act for his colleagues that might be compromised if he got drunk tonight.

Ethan joins in, “Man, that’s insane. So how did you _know?_ ” He’s talking to Kyle. And the whole table is listening. Great.

“Know?” Kyle asks, hoping silently that being the centre of attention for a group of overly-interested drunk people isn’t going to go how he thinks it is.

“Yeah, dude. How do you figure out that you want to date someone who you’ve known your whole life?”  - he looks at Stan - “Nine months, you said? How come it didn’t it happen earlier?”

Kyle swallows but his throat is dry. “I - Well.” He looks down into the tablecloth. Settles for an answer that’s half the truth. “I went away to college and the main thing I figured out from it was I didn’t like being around anyone there as much as I loved my best friend at home.”

They’re all cooing but the only thing Kyle sees is Stan’s expression. A diffident smile, threatening to burst. And it’s for him. He knows instantly that it’s only for him, not for the benefit of act, not for anyone else at the table, not to help enrich the story they're telling. He tries to calm down his beating heart, centering himself by squeezing back the hand now glued to his.

“What about you?” Natasha asks Stan impishly, chin resting on her hand.

He realises just now how flustered Stan really looks. But Kyle’s comment seems to have put him in a more playful mood, and it looks like he’s going to thoroughly milk the role for all its worth.

“Um, I - it was a little different for me,“ He looks at Kyle now, eyes glinting with a win, practically goading that he’s got something juicier. “I always knew.”

There’s an immediate chorus of _oooh_.

“You never told me anything,” Kyle says, trying hard to have fun.

“Maybe I was shy,” Stan replies, looking the furthest thing from shy. “But maybe I should have said something,” he says imploringly.

For a horrible fraction of a second, Kyle feels caught red-handed. But the moment passes quickly, and the table is humming their sympathetic reactions. He takes the opportunity to steer the conversation away from them, faking embarrassment at all the attention and turning the question back, asking Neil and Natasha how they got together.

Stan doesn’t look at him for the rest of the conversation, and when it dies down, he excuses himself with a cursory smile and a pat on Kyle’s back.

***

The further edge of the roof is less crowded, with most people milling around where the drinks are now. Stan finds an empty corner and a glass of water. He needs a break, to be honest, because the conversation just now was a tightrope. A strange balancing act, not only between them and the rest of the table, but for some reason, between Kyle and himself too.

They had to improvise, so Kyle improvised something true, it was obvious the moment their eyes met. Right. That’s what Stan had suggested earlier, keep it close to the truth to make it easy. The implication is so weird and so _warm_ in Stan’s stomach - did Kyle love him enough that it sort of dampened his college experience? He never got that vibe from Kyle before. But he knows well enough that constant messaging and hanging out once every couple of months isn’t the same thing.

He just didn’t expect that Kyle felt the exact same way he did.

It’s nice to know. But he doesn’t feel bad for interrogating Kyle about his mood, even if they didn’t really get to talk about it. He can’t shake the feeling that something between them is heading towards _ugly_ , and he wants to know why.

“Hey. You’re with Kyle, right? I think we met earlier.” He looks up. It’s Sara. She flashes a gorgeous smile at him, leaning awkwardly against the parapet behind her in lieu of asking permission to sit down.

Stan smiles as charmingly as possible and pats the chair next to his, feeling a little bit artless. She really is beautiful, and a distraction would be nice right now. The flower-patterned dark blue of her cocktail dress drapes cutely past her knees in the sitting position, and she takes a moment to cross her legs comfortably and arrange the fabric.

“I’m Sara,” she says, but Stan knew that. He introduces himself. ‘Boyfriend’ and all. It’s pretty automatic now.

“You know, I never knew anything about a boyfriend! Surprising considering how much Kyle _talks,_ ” she teases.

Stan laughs nervously, brain already whirring. But her tone is familiar, teeming with affection for Kyle (something they immediately have in common) and that takes him off the defence pretty quickly.

He tries to think up a response. So why didn’t Kyle mention his boyfriend to this girl that he’s (presumably) pretty friendly with? _Would_ Kyle mention a boyfriend? He took so long to bring up Adam to Stan, his best friend, so who knows what he’d reveal to someone he’s known for a few weeks.

But would that be different if Stan was his boyfriend? There it goes again. Not for the first time, he’s acutely aware of how bare this act is. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much.

Between that and looking at her very distracting face, he’s clearly taking too long to respond, because Sara cuts in between his thoughts.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Like nine months now,” Stan says, relieved to have moved on. “We actually - we knew each other for a long time before that, though.”

She nods attentively and raises her eyebrows to ask for elaboration.

“We kind of grew up together. Tiny, weird little town north of here. He’s always been my best friend, as long as I can remember.” He can’t control how warm his voice comes out, saying that. Out of all the things he’s said this evening, this makes him feel the most - real. Not a character. And that makes him feel solid, if a little vulnerable. Thankfully it’s only going to work in his favour.

She sounds almost wistful, “Wow. That sounds like a dream.”

Stan’s heartbeat goes a little wrong. Does it? He smiles bashfully, feels himself burn under her words and her curious gaze.

She laughs, “I can’t even imagine tolerating my friends at home now, let alone dating one of them!” She wrinkles her nose and scoffs. “Or my high school boyfriend.” She beams at him again, strangely intent. “Kyle’s a catch, I bet.”

Stan smirks, he can’t help it. “So I’ve heard!” He corrects himself immediately with an eye roll, “I mean - I _know_ that, obviously.”

He’s stupid.

She bites back a smile and directs her gaze at the trees behind his head. “Well, yeah, I’m sure you are, too!”

Stan is really glad for the darkness now, the heat creeping up his face is palpable. Sara sweeps her shiny black hair over one shoulder. Scratches the back of her neck conspicuously. A move he’s well familiar with.

They’re smiling all over each other. Someone needs to say something before it gets awkward.

“Are you here alone?”

Why the fuck does he decide to say _that_?

“Oh - uh, yeah. I have to be at my sister’s birthday party soon after this, so no point dragging someone along.”

Stan laughs, “Makes sense. You look way too nice for an office party.”

“Well, you look way too chill to be in a law office.” She adds suddenly, “In a good way I mean! So it makes sense that Kyle brought you.”

Curiously, two things are happening here: one, she _must_ be aware of how attractive Stan finds her, what with all the fumbling and smiling, and in the same way, he’s almost completely sure that she’s feeling the same way about him, too. And two, this doesn’t seem to be bothering the trajectory of their conversation one bit: she accepts his and Kyle’s relationship without a shred of doubt, is almost doting about it.

He furrows his eyebrows, trying not to sound too curious. “What about you, then? Since I’m guessing your high school boyfriend didn’t work out?”

“Oh, uh, no. I have a girlfriend now.” Her eyes go wide and she laughs at Stan’s expression. “Not because he put me off guys or anything like that! But - yeah. Two years. We met in college.” She smiles hard, almost without noticing it.

“Oh, so - you like _both -_ you’re - ?” That’s probably the single weirdest way he could have chosen to phrase that comment. He’s such an idiot.

It’s Sara’s turn to look confused. “Yeah,” she says slowly, drawing out the word in her confusion, “aren’t you?” She catches herself promptly, “Oh - I mean - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume, I just thought -”

She’s bright red, even the night can’t hide that.

Stan feels mortified for embarrassing her, and for looking so damn surprised. It’s so obvious: they were undeniably vibing, _like that_ , and he’s also been talking about his boyfriend, _like that_. Stupid. This must be why she’s taking their conversation all in stride.

And now she thinks that she imagined Stan’s interest in her.

“I am,” He says quickly, not wanting to prolong her embarrassment any more, but he feels strange - it’s confirmation of the spark between them, a step closer to his real self than he thought he would be tonight.

He adds, with an embarrassed smile, “Sorry. It’s not your mistake. I just got mixed up - I don’t really meet bi- other bisexual people that often.” He laughs nervously.

“Me neither,” She says with relief, and then they’re only smiling at each other again.

They talk for a while longer, and Stan suddenly feels a ton lighter than he did at the table with Kyle. Feels _known_ , somehow, and everything about Sara puts him at ease, even if it feels like he’s constantly recuperating from how pretty she is. He feels good about the charade, too, because he’s clearly been acting well enough that even a girl that _knows_ he’s attracted to her doesn’t doubt his thing with Kyle for one minute.

He feels safe in this balance; in Sara’s version of himself. Finally, he can see the role clearly in front of him: _of course_ he’s Kyle’s boyfriend. Nothing about that statement clashes with who he is, and it’s easier now to think about how most things about it feel natural.

He asks her about her girlfriend, to cover his tracks, calibrate between them the _harmless_ part of their harmless mutual flirting. They’re definitely on the same page here. And he finds he doesn’t mind talking about Kyle with her either, puts more truths into the overall lie than he has the whole night. They stay on that topic - eventually, he asks her about her sexuality too, he thinks it’s safe since they’ve already kind of accidentally broached the topic - and actually finds himself listening intently. She doesn’t ask him too many probing questions in return, he’s grateful that she seems to sense his pensive mood, and understand that he wants to listen and absorb. They cover a few more topics: how college life was, how work life is (or law school in her case), hockey, the weather, favourite bands. Eventually Sara excuses herself to receive a call. She talks into her phone in rapid Spanish for a minute before turning back to Stan.

“I’ve gotta go now,” she smiles. And then, “It was really nice talking to you. We should - you should keep in touch okay?”

They exchange numbers. The thought of potentially having to be Kyle’s boyfriend again in some form doesn’t deter him - in fact, it doesn’t even cross his mind until long afterwards.

Stan goes straight to the wine after she leaves. Tries to calculate whether it’s been long enough since his first glass, because he wants to drive Kyle home, too. He finds a little spot even further out from the crowds of people, where there are no chairs, overcome by a sudden want to be alone. He wants the things Sara said to be fresh in his mind for a while.

He spots Kyle at the table, again, amidst a roughly similar group of people that seems to have expanded since he left. They must all be the ones from that same firm. He’s talking with his hands, and so is Ethan and another dude, but they’re not arguing. Kyle looks like he’s describing something earnestly, a couple of people nodding attentively beside him. They break into laughter. Two of them, the couple from earlier, get up to leave. He only notices now that the woman looks like a taller, younger Divya. The conversation starts up again, more idle this time.

Kyle leans back in his chair with a stretch. He pulls off his glasses, wiping the lenses on his shirt and putting them back on again. He’s looking down at his phone, nodding to something the guy across from him is saying. Suddenly, he looks up, eyes searching around before they find Stan. He’s far away, but Stan can make out his brows furrowing amusedly as he takes in Stan’s position: sitting alone leaned against a parapet, quietly nursing a drink. Stan’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

He looks at the newest message: _Tired?_

Three little dots jump on the screen and he waits for Kyle to finish typing the rest: _We can go now if you want_

He writes back, _Not at all. Just thinking. Will stay as long as u want to_

_Thinking???_

Stan takes too long to decide what to say to that. Kyle tries again: _But seriously, we can go. I get it if ur exhausted. And sorry for being weird earlier. I owe you big time for this._

Stan doesn’t hesitate: _Nah. Whenever u wanna leave. I’m yours for the night remember?_

Kyle’s body changes at this. He sits up straighter. Stan can’t see his expression because he’s fidgeting, pulling the arch of his hand stretched over his mouth. Clearly the wrong thing to say. Stan types quickly, _didn’t even get to give Adam the goods yet._

This does make Kyle laugh, and Stan watches as his shoulders shake and ease instantly. He seems happier than when they arrived, happier than when he was at the table earlier, and happier than every instance in the last few months when Adam would figuratively come knocking.

_OK just 20 mins. I really wanna finish this convo. They’re talking about dumbest things clients ever wanted them to defend_

Stan basks in his enthusiasm. Almost types out, _I’m really proud of you,_ before realising what a weird and uncalled for statement that would be, and settles on a couple of thumbs-up emojis. 

***

Twenty minutes turns into forty, and Kyle excuses himself finally, because he’s actually getting hungry now.

“See ya on Monday,” Ethan says. “I got an appointment at 10 so catch me up on what I miss from the meeting. It was really good meeting your boyfriend, by the way.” Kyle smiles through a sudden tension. So he’s going to have to keep this up in some form then, even if it’s just in passing, unless he wants to fake-break up with fake-Stan.

He rolls his eyes. Why didn’t they think this plan through?

Stan’s sitting exactly where he last saw him and looks deep in thought about something, and a little tired, no matter what he said earlier. Kyle sits down carefully next to him, only thinking briefly about how his expensive pants shouldn’t really be mashed against the unpanelled floor here.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Stan dismisses him with a shake of his head.

“I’m so hungry. Do you wanna grab something to eat on the way?” Kyle says.

“Yeah. I need something savoury. Feel kinda sick from so many cakes.”

“What are you feeling? Chicken? Burgers?“

But Stan isn’t paying attention to him suddenly. He looks across the space in front of him for a second, eyes locking briefly on something behind Kyle's head, before turning down surreptitiously to his phone in his lap. “Don’t look, but Adam’s watching.”

Kyle doesn’t. He feels genuinely refreshed after the time spent with his colleagues, and he doesn’t even want to acknowledge Adam’s existence right now, let alone worry about looking conspicuous in front of him. Adam avoided him the whole night, despite the fact that he would probably have liked to sit with some of that group on any other day.

Stan leans against his shoulder. He thinks for a hopeful second that this might be more like their normal thing, and he can forget about the whole stupid ruse (regardless of the fact that he agreed to it, and it _worked_ ) and sit in peace for a second. But Stan doesn’t let him, because he places his hand firmly on Kyle’s knee, the length of his forearm snug against Kyle’s body. His eyes are closed, he’s signalling no one, but the move is possessive. It’s for Adam. 

“Where did you disappear off to?” Kyle asks, trying to hold onto a semblance of casualness, for his own sake. He’s speaking softer than he would want to, because their positioning doesn’t really justify anything louder.

“Just here and there. Sat with Sara for a while. She’s really sweet.” Stan strokes his thumb absently over where it’s resting. The movement is gentle, sweeping. Every nerve in Kyle’s body is suddenly in that part of his leg.

“You’re cheating on me?” Kyle fakes indignation, hoping hard that Stan can’t hear the rush of his heartbeat. But it’s quiet where they are.

“Totally. You don’t even give me your time these days. _Twenty minutes._ ”

Kyle tries not to laugh into his hair.

Stan really is being such a good friend. And so understanding. He didn’t have to come here and do this with his Friday night. Kyle puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing something like appreciation into it, and Stan sits forward, leaning into him and getting even more comfortable. Kyle shifts inward so their legs are touching all the way down.

What’s a little more make-believe after a whole evening of it? They should put Adam’s ego right where it belongs.

He shivers off the breeze, hugging Stan closer. He might berate himself later for it, he might not.

“Cold?” Stan says quietly. And then he mumbles, practically talking into Kyle’s neck, “You can wear my sweater.”

“So thoughtful.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m buying you food when we get out.”

“Are you trying to one-up me?”

“No. I just really owe you.” Kyle laughs nervously. Stan squeezes his knee lightly with a slight shake of the head. Another dismissal. Why isn’t he agreeing to it? It’s not like he usually has any qualms about taking Kyle’s food.

Kyle thinks about how he would be able to feel Stan’s lashes blink against his collarbone right now, if this shirt was a little thinner.

“You should see Adam’s face right now,” Stan says suddenly, lifting his head. He smirks at Kyle, “Looks like he swallowed a lemon.” He goes right back to lounging on Kyle’s shoulder.

“Good,” Kyle says. _Then I think we’re done here_ , he wants to add, but he doesn’t say anything and neither does Stan.

The air is pleasant. Not too cold, actually, besides that occasional breeze. There’s few enough people left that the chatter is more like a distant hum, a buzz lulling Kyle to tranquility. Stan is a perfect weight, and despite the fact that Kyle can feel every shift of his body, amplified, in the pit of his stomach, he feels calm in a wider sense. They stay like that for a while.

“I think he’s leaving,” Stan’s saying, and Kyle blinks and comes down to Earth from the voice disturbing his reverie. “Yup. Gone,” Stan confirms, looking at the elevator.

And then he laughs. It’s a proper, indulgent laughter, and Kyle couldn’t be immune to _that_ if he tried, so he just joins in. They probably look like complete idiots. And drunk.

“Thanks for doing this, dude.”

Stan doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take _dude_ as a cue to return to normal.

“Kyle, can I ask you something?”

“Okay,” Kyle replies warily. Feels uneasy about giving any answer to anything with Stan pressed to him like this, but Stan’s not really giving him a way out.

“ - And please don't feel like you have to answer if it's too weird.” Right. Not that it wouldn't be more conspicuous if he didn't answer.

“Did you ever -” he starts, and stops. Kyle can smell his scent and hear his breath and feel his pulse, is aware of everything all at once. Stan’s voice is softer when he speaks again, more hesitant. “Did you ever think about...”

Whatever he’s thinking clearly doesn’t want to come out. Kyle bites the inside of his cheek, feels a tipping point on his tongue, wishes his heart would stop speeding, thudding, aching.

“I know all _this_ isn’t like, real, but did you ever think about me like that? Like we’d be good together?”

Kyle’s heart is stuck in his throat. He sits up.

He wants to say something, _everything_ , but the words don’t come. How can they? He has too much fucking practice making sure they don’t. He blinks fast, eyes boring into Stan’s widening ones, pleading with them to understand the _yes_ and _always_ and _always always always_ caught inside him.

Stan looks down at his trembling hands. He doesn’t touch them. He takes in the sight carefully for a second, or three, before standing up in a sharp movement.

“Let’s go get burgers,” he says.

***

They make it halfway to the parking lot, Kyle following him with perfect distance like they’re strung on a thread of wire, before Stan turns right around, walks into Kyle and presses him to the side of the building. Kyle’s desire is alive under his hands, pouring sweet from the lips pressed roughly against his. It’s brimming to burst in the jerky hands gripping his hair, his neck, settling finally on his waist.

Stan breathes in the crook of his neck like it’s air, presses his lips as many times as he can to his cheek, his jaw, before Kyle wrenches away his purchase and takes his mouth again. They’re fumbling more than kissing, and then laughing more than fumbling, the energy too much, too bright, to direct.

“We should do this again,” Stan breathes. “I think we’re getting really good at it.”

  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [this](http://artistictea.tumblr.com/post/170475133773/he-blinks-fast-eyes-boring-into-stans-widening) lovely art by artistictea on tumblr!!
> 
>  
> 
> [The events after.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153407)


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